Lines and looks …7
621 Words
Claire arrived at the office earlier than usual. The sun hadn’t fully risen, and the quiet hum of the city was just beginning to stir. The only sound inside the building was the soft echo of her heels on the marble floor and the gentle buzz of her badge unlocking the creative suite.
She needed the stillness. It helped her focus. And with the new Empire Tower campaign now sitting on her shoulders—at least creatively—Claire had no room for distraction.
Except, of course, for the one distraction that had started living rent-free in the back of her mind.
Damian Laurent.
He hadn’t spoken to her again since their meeting three days ago, but the weight of that conversation lingered. His words. The way he looked at her. That flicker of something she couldn’t quite name—but felt.
It was wrong to think about it. Unprofessional. She had spent too much of her life wrapped up in toxic dynamics. She wasn’t about to fall into that trap again, no matter how piercing those gray-blue eyes were.
Still… she caught herself wondering what it would feel like if he smiled at her the way men smiled at women they actually wanted.
The office started to come alive around 8:30, and Carter stopped by her desk with the latest updates from structural engineering. He dropped a file next to her and raised a brow.
“Boss man wants to see you again. Said to bring your sketches.”
Claire blinked. “Right now?”
Carter smirked. “You’re making waves, Bennett. Better surf ‘em.”
She collected her portfolio, palms just slightly clammy. She walked the now-familiar hallway to the executive floor, heart pounding a little harder than it should.
Damian was at his desk, sleeves rolled up, eyes scanning something on his tablet when she knocked.
“Come in.”
He looked up, and something subtle shifted in his expression when he saw her. It wasn’t dramatic. Most people wouldn’t notice.
But Claire did.
“You wanted to see the new concepts?” she asked, keeping her tone steady.
“I did. Come,” he gestured to the chair across from his. “Let’s take a look.”
She handed him the sketches, and for a moment, silence settled between them as he studied her work. His jaw ticked slightly as he flipped through each page. When he spoke, his voice was lower than usual.
“These are excellent.”
Claire tried not to beam. “Thank you.”
He looked up again, his eyes briefly lingering on her before returning to the sketchpad.
“You have an instinct for this. A way of translating emotion into design. Most people your age don’t have that.”
Claire felt her stomach twist—not from nerves, but from something warm and unfamiliar.
He closed the sketchpad and sat back. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since I was twelve,” she said softly. “I used to sketch buildings on the back of my homework when I needed to escape.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “Escape from what?”
The question hit her like a crack in the armor.
Claire hesitated. Then, with a carefully measured breath, she said, “A home that didn’t feel like one.”
Damian said nothing for a long moment. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did.
“Then maybe this tower… can be your escape turned legacy.”
Claire’s breath caught.
He stood. The conversation was ending. But something had changed.
He walked her to the door this time. Another subtle shift.
And as she left, Claire didn’t just feel seen.
She felt understood.
- Writer
